Disarming
by celticvampriss
Summary: Rivetra Week: Supposed to be Enemies. Vampire/Vampire Hunter. Violence, gore, killing, and steamy scenes (not explicit smut though).


**A/N: Violence. Gore. Vampire fights. Things get hot, but not smutty. **

Disarming

The steel of his blade caught the dancing flicker of candle flame as it sunk in and out of flesh. Nails and teeth were bared in defense against him, but there was nothing the creatures could do but to hiss in pain and die. They had numbered ten when he started down that long paneled hallway and now two remained. They backed away, allowing for a respite from their slaughter.

Levi felt the blood, thick and cold, against his cuffs as the black-congealed mess oozed from the hilts of twin swords. He had slowed when his prey retreated, but only to a walk. He would never stop.

The shorter of the two, its ghastly skin brittle and chipping under tawny hair that frayed like wire from a circuit, raised its hands in truce. "You would do well to retreat, hunter. Past this point, there are hundreds more, stronger than any of us. And _she_ will be waiting."

"You should have lead with them." He let his sword blade drag along a fluttering curtain, cutting through it like water and the shorn half fall in a heap as he passed. It did not clean all the blood and ichor from the shiny blade, but it had smeared it enough for their reflections to mirror the fear in their eyes through a veil of crimson.

He switched his grip, tossing the swords and catching them at a better angle, the blades now pointed behind him as he raised his arms.

The creatures' backs hit the hard wooden door that cut off their retreat and the end of the corridor. Their fangs were bared and their nails were filthy, dirt and decay lining the underside and making his lip curl.

"You've been warned, hunter. You will not live this night if you continue, I assure you that. You will be another fallen to your cause. She is stronger than the ten of us together." A savage hiss followed this threat. Levi disregarded it as the ramblings of an animal cornered and facing their oblivion. Where did their souls wither to after he sheered it from their bodies? Did they even exist at all?

Levi wasted no more words of his own. In his nose he inhaled and by the exhale their heads rolled from their shoulders. Blood, the inky near black sludge, overflowed over their necks. With no heartbeat to pump it anywhere, it poured in a cascade instead of spray. He spun the hilt of each sword over his finger and then thrust into their chests, impaling their hearts, and when he pulled his blades free they sagged and fell limp. So much for their warnings.

He stepped over the bodies, wrinkling his nose at the smell and sight as pools of carnage began to seep into the once decently clean maroon carpet. He did not look behind him, at the splatter of gore reaching the ceilings and paintings from the flick of his swords. The spread was so heavy a few of the candles had been snuffed out in the wreckage.

He had had his sights on this den for weeks. He knew, from carefully meticulous and grueling hours of observation, that more than just ten fledglings lived here. This 'her' they referred to, if the gossipy ravings of socially deprived hunters were to be believed, was a higher class of vampire. A pure specimen, though her appearance had yet to be confirmed. No one that saw her lived and the ones that claimed to could not collaborate on their facts. Levi wanted this one. He had asked Erwin specifically for this assignment. It wasn't vanity or pride, really, but he knew that the job would not be completed by anyone else.

While he doubted that hundreds were sealed away in this den, he did expect more resistance the further he infiltrated. To poke a hive of bees meant to anticipate the wrath of every worker before one reached the queen. He was cautious, then, as he examined the door that halted his advance.

It was locked. The hinges were new metal, free of dust, and it had been refinished recently. He dipped to study the lock, but it was a simple skeleton key lock. He could pick it without difficulty, but whatever lurked beyond would be alerted, if the screams hadn't already sparked an alarm.

He tapped the bottom of the door with his boot, listening to the resonance and feeling the resistance. It was solid, the faintest echo of metal? Possibly. Not something easily broken down regardless. There might be another way around, but that would take too long. He turned to the fallen bodies nearest him.

Levi used his sword point to roll over a body. It was too simple that a key would be hanging from a belt loop. He tore it free and held it up for inspection, twisting it for a better angle in the light. He fished into his waistcoat for a handkerchief and wiped it clean before inserting it in the lock. The tumblers clicked and then popped lightly in compliance with the key.

He kept himself hidden behind the door as he eased it open. It was heavy and it creaked with every inch it opened. He heard voices, whispers and hisses, a sound that made his skin prickle with disgust. Their breathy chatter was chilling and he hated the sound more than he hated the sight of them.

He hesitated when long boned, white fingers closed tentatively around the edge of the door. The hand began to push while Levi pulled, and it wouldn't be long before they noticed the pieces of their allies decorating from floor to ceiling. Levi, without moving his eyes from the fingers on the door, moved the head nearest him with his foot. He waited for the door to open a fraction more before punting it through the gap.

Alarm rang out as Levi lunged, slipping inside and ducking the first set of flailing limbs. He slashed backward, cutting through legs and shins, straight through bone and muscle. This room was darker, the expanse of it covered in shadow but for a few scones near the door. Levi tore through bodies. Spun so that his blades ripped open chests and spliced arms and fingers. He had intuition about danger and parried attacks that he couldn't see in the dimness. Globs of their blood rained over his cheeks and matted in his hair. He was grateful of the long overcoat that flared at his waist, it caught most of the mess and saved the majority of his clothes. The dark material was glistening by then.

"Get to her. Go." A voice shrieked somewhere to his right and he moved, catching the retreating vampire from behind by its neck and stabbing downward into its chest from the front. He threw the body to the ground.

He could sense the volume had decreased, the air wasn't quite so filled with the muted noise of bodies and footsteps. His eyes, though adjusted were still a disadvantage in the dark, detected movement to his left and he caught the full force of a spear's edge against his forearm. The force of it pushed him backward, the soles of his boots squeaking against the floor.

"I have seen you before, yes?"

Levi couldn't see enough to recognize a face. Not that he could tell one of these demon spawn from the next. Levi swiped at the arm holding the spear, but it retreated before contact. He jumped back a step, breathing sharply as he reassessed his enemy. This one was no fledgling. It was stronger, quicker, and smarter.

He was wary of ambush, but from what he could sense, they were the only two remaining in the room. He closed his eyes and listened. The creature wore shoes, unlike some, which made the sounds of his steps easy to follow.

"We know of a few hunters by name. I believe yours is Levi, correct?"

There were stakes holstered along the back of his Levi's belt. He sheathed one sword and used sleight of hand to get a stake into his palm, pushing the bulk of it up his sleeve.

He heard the slick sound of a moist tongue gliding over teeth and resisted gagging. "You're strangely silent for a hunter. Normally, it is impossible to silence you about your quest, your God, your superiority to our inferior race. I would be expecting a hearty lecture about now. Or do you not care to preach to your enemies?"

Levi used the voice as a target, holding it in his mind as he calculated.

"A silent hunter. Who would have guessed—" His speech was cut off by a shrill cry. The stake Levi threw was buried to the hilt in his chest. He coughed with blood laced gasps, gurgling the final moments of his existence away.

The vampire fell to his knees and Levi put a boot against his shoulder so he could yank his stake free. A torrent of blood hit the floor then eased into a light drip.

"It's irritating when you vermin try stalling." Levi droned as he cleaned off his stake with a cloth. "Who is this 'she' you keep referring too? Did she create you?" Blood sprayed when the vampire tried to talk. "Disgusting." Levi fisted the vampire's long hair, wrenching it so they were eye to eye. "Does it bother you? That I'm talking now?"

"D-devil…"

Levi released him and then kicked him over so that he hit the ground hard. "You will die slowly. Like the men you've killed. And the women. And the children. I'm fair enough to give you the same consideration." He shook out his handkerchief to wipe off his hands.

There were two doors in that room, one of which he had used to enter. The other was outlined in light and he crossed toward it, finding it slightly ajar.

He used the tip of a finger to draw it open, looking for shadows to detect enemies on the other side. Finally he kicked it wide and saw nothing.

This room was large, a ballroom in its former life, and was decently lit for once. He could see to its other end clearly and he noted that except for furniture it appeared barren. He held his swords ready, stepping with purpose to show he was not afraid. It was a warning, more than anything. He walked until he caught his reflection in one of the mirrors, wincing at the sight.

He freed two fingers from the hilt of a sword and combed his hair to ease the matted clumps free. He reached again for his handkerchief and wiped the smudges off his face and hands. He stopped when he heard the catch of wind against fabric.

The back of his teeth ground together, but he would forget the rest of his disarray temporarily. He squinted, but there was nothing to see in that room. Thick drapes closed smaller rooms designated by arches and columns off from the main floor. Tables and chairs were pushed to one side and near the furthest corner sat a grand piano clothed in a sheet but for the keys. A mirror spanned the width of the room furthest from him, but that wouldn't do him any good with this type of enemy.

The back of his neck prickled and he turned in time to cut through a vampire's jaw, separating it from its head. Another just behind it and Levi ducked under its arms, sliding on his knees, then standing in time to thrust through both their backs and to their hearts. In the near distance he could hear the click of heels against the marble ballroom floors.

Levi positioned himself defensively toward the sound, but didn't make a move to attack. This vampire carried herself with formality and grace. Her shoulders didn't hunch. There were no jerky or idle twitching in her fingers or arms. She was calm and steady, serene. He knew, without question, that this was the one he had come for. Her. And it was easy to see how she fit into a class entirely her own, separated from the monsters he'd fought by leagues.

The smile she wore wasn't callous or sarcastic, like he had come to know of vampire smiles, but warm and inviting. Soothing, even. Copper hair framed a pretty face, bangs tucked behind her ear. He almost—almost—considered if she was actually not a vampire, but a creature entirely different. It was alarming how easily his attention was held in just watching her.

"You have made a mess, haven't you?" She took a step sideways. Her heels were hidden in the skirts of her dress. Navy blue, with modest decorations, that embellished her figure enough to entice but not scandalize. She could have been any woman out in society searching for a husband. But that fact made him uneasy. She might very well have used that dress to lure 'prospective husbands' to feed and murder.

Levi let his arms rest at his side, though he was tensed to spring. He took a step forward and observed her reaction, looking for the smallest clue to her true nature and the monster underneath all that pretty skin and delicate curves. Vampires, men or women, retained too little of their humanity to ever earn more than disgust from him. The fact that she could easily be either was unsettling.

Her eyes did change then. The deep, honeyed brown burned for a fraction as she nearly bared her teeth. "I don't like hunters in _my_ home." He caught the edge of a fang as she closed her lips demurely. "You'll understand."

"Did you turn them?"

She balked, a blush would have sprung to her cheeks if she had any blood left to spare it. "That's a bit personal."

"Did you?" He asked again, pointing with his sword. "Turning humans into creatures like you is something I don't take lightly. Answer me. _Did you turn them_?"

Her eyes narrowed, the threat of her species cutting through her feminine guise. "You don't get to talk to me like that, hunter."

"Answer or I have no more reason to let you live."

The edge of her tongue traced her lip, the pupils of her eyes smoldering. "You speak very boldly for someone in your position. You do realize that I hold the power here, not you."

He followed her with his eyes as she stalked him, her gait was meant to imply innocence but held the intention of catching him off his guard. He needed to be smart, holding back until he had better observed her. If she was giving him the chance to study then he would take it. He wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her.

She was close to him now, circling. With a tilt of her head she peered at his face. Levi didn't flinch, though he refused to breathe to keep from inhaling any of her foul scent.

"You're not afraid." She said.

He noticed the way her steps seemed to glide across the floor. She moved with no effort, no sign of exertion or consumed energy. He was distracted from his observation when her lips parted. There was no way in hell he would let a vampire bite him. He would cut his own head off first, if it kept his neck free of their fangs. However, she didn't part them in aggression.

She lingered, her eyes searched his face, and for an instant she looked more poised to kiss him than bite. The shock of it slipped through his features and earned a smile from her. He forgot to hold his breath and hers puffed over his mouth, wafting up through his nose and he wanted to recoil in distaste, but she did not smell of rot or decay. He wore his surprise once again before he could stop himself.

How had he let her get so close? He could just feel the pressure of her figure, contained by that midnight dress, against his chest. This was the calm before she attacked, he understood that. But for another minute he did not move.

When her fingers rose to graze the skin under his collar he struck, more out of revulsion than defense. Her reflexes were too fast, she was out of reach before he could get a hit. Suddenly he understood the extent of his danger. She wouldn't win by force, she would win by lulling him into security. He shook away the haze, convincing himself that her beguiling magic had started its work the moment he saw her.

He was panting. For the first time that night he was winded.

For her sake, she played the part well enough. Her nostrils flared and there was a flicker of shock in her gaze. With a raise of her chin she regained composure.

He lunged, refusing to let this carry on any longer, and missed the first strike as he had anticipated. She moved with such grace she seemed to cover the space of three feet with a single step. She appeared behind his shoulder. Levi was quick, but she was a fraction faster.

Instead of the upper hand, he was matched. She parried his advance, moving with the force of his attack, and he adjusted to her superior speed. Instead he calculated her moves, observed her footing so he could anticipate her next step. She seemed to prefer his back, trying to get her claws around his neck, probably even her teeth if he gave her the chance.

Levi switched his grip in mid-air so he could plunge the sword backward. He heard the tear of fabric, but she had moved with the motion to resist damage to her stomach. She slapped the side flat side of his blade away and caught him by the collar, pulling until he heard the fibers of his favorite coat rip and strain against her fingers.

Her eyes were low, roaming over his face as he tried to attack with his right arm. She caught his wrist, keeping her other hand on his collar and her body close, almost intimate in the space she left between them. His blood curdled as the scent of her breath spread along his mouth. He resisted gagging, refusing to breath it in. Her finger moved to draw sharply down his throat, a line of blood beading in its wake.

She could only hold one of his arms if she wanted to keep hold of his neck and so he changed tact to counter the onslaught of forced intimacy. Levi let his free arm drag up her side, feigning innocence in the gesture by riding the sweep of her curves. Playing her game and using her own trick to gain his advantage. The depths of her eyes opened with an emotion that seemed to paralyze her until he could twist his wrist and draw the blade into her back.

A cry rose from her mouth, blood bubbling from her wound. She tore the blade from her shoulder and threw it at her feet. Anger sizzled in her eyes, igniting the charged energy.

"No hunter has ever drawn blood." She said, and there was unabashed admiration in her tone. There was space between them again, giving his senses a reprieve.

He wasn't going to give her time to come at him again. Proximity was her greatest advantage. Touch was her weapon, not her fangs or the claws of her nails, but the sheer overwhelming rush emanating from her in tangible waves. He pulled a stake from his belt and threw it as he ran straight toward her. When she dodged the stake, he caught her mid-retreat and nearly got his remaining sword into her chest. He threw his weight into the blow, driving the blade closer to her heart. She grabbed his wrist and pushed his against him, forcing herself backward as her heels slid along the marble flooring. Her spine straightened against the wall, cracking it, as they struggled to overpower the other.

Levi used his weight to drive the sword forward and she needed both her hands to hold him at bay. She was stronger, but he had leverage on his side. Their limbs trembled with the effort, but he was slowly driving it home. His feet were rooted, the soles of his boots slipping only fractionally as the sword's tip cut through the first few laces of her dress. Then the corset underneath began to tear, spreading wide to uncover some of her chest. He grunted, steeling himself against the force of her hands and gritting his teeth.

He looked briefly up, catching her eyes, and instead of finding them scared or defeated they were dark, hazy. That was not the look of someone inches from death. He let out a low breath when she adjusted her arms so that instead of pushing away from her, she was pushing _down_. The rips and tears as the blade sunk lower were full of suggestion. More and more of that dark satin dress was falling open and he fought to keep his gaze pious but faltered. The severity of his features very nearly cracked.

She began to rise, her chest spilling even more from her shredded corset, and hooked a hand behind his head.

"I don't particularly like hunters." She said, but her whisper wasn't a hiss or feral like he had come to associate with her kind. It was human, very human with a low husky tone. "I hate them." Her voice was a sensual whisper.

He locked eyes with her.

"Say something." She said, searching again. There was an earnest note to her voice. It was then that he first considered this might not be a trick to ease him into death. Maybe this spiraling, out of control, lust was mutually disarming.

"Stop playing around and make your move. If you aim to kill me this is your last chance before I end this." He had lost in that moment. His defenses were scattered. His instincts frantically tipping from survival to amorous. She kill him and he would have no defense, no reflexes to resist. If she did not take this chance then she either enjoyed the game too much or she wasn't playing either.

Their hands were still locked over the hilt of the sword and they stopped when it reached the waist of her dress, so much of it already sheered open.

"I should." Her fingers scratched lightly against the back of his head. He fought not to close his eyes. "Yet I—"

"Do it." He insisted. "Or I will kill you." He hated her. Hated that she grinned sweetly. Hated the innocent tilt to her head like his threat was an amusing jest by a child. And he hated that there was something so human about her, wherever she touched was ice—the nails on the back of his head, her other hand still gently draped over his—and yet her eyes held the warmth of an optimist girl with a life that she would live even if she had to do it removed from humanity. There was too much of the woman she had been before for him to truly see the monster.

"Forgive me…" Her teeth sucked on her bottom lip before parting completely. "But I don't think you will."

The discipline he'd cultivated over _years_ was obliterated by the creature still sinfully entwined to him by limbs and steel. His ground his back teeth together. "Vampires are a plague, a pestilence that I mean to—"

Her body arched suddenly and she smoothly knocked the sword out from between them, but not from his hand. He caught her instinctively with the other and pressed his fingers hard into her hip. She slid her body up, grinding into him. "If I'm a plague…you're very close to catching it."

"Gross." He breathed, unfortunately it was the best resistance he could manage.

"I agree." She blew on his neck.

Levi winced and tried to push her away, "the fuck are you doing?" She clung to him tighter.

"I'm going to be honest, I don't know." The smile that followed was too earnest, the dangerous flirtation had vanished for the space of her words, returning as the brown of her eyes was consumed by black, a raw visceral hunger. She hovered, just above his mouth. "Though, I'm curious if you will kiss me first."

"No fucking way."

She smiled, amused that she was breaking through his composure. Levi didn't find this amusing. He was furious that he hadn't tried to use another stake from his belt. Or to spit in her face. Or rip her damn infuriating lips off her mouth.

"You think I'm going to kill you if you do?" She said. "You think what I want is…" She bent her head, brushing her nose up the length of his throat.

Never. _Never_ would he allow a vampire so close to his neck. But he could no longer summon the strength to lift up his weapon. He thought this had been her strategy, but he realized the longer this carried on that he was very likely mistaken.

She hovered above his face, hesitant. Almost shy. The talk she had just displayed and now she was holding back? No. That's not how this worked.

He let his sword fall so he could cup her chin in one hand, squeezed her rounded cheeks with the tips of his fingers, and roughly sealed his mouth over hers.

The contradiction warred in his head, disgust when he considered the factual situation of what he was currently doing with the intense pure-fucking-electric-half-drunk-ecstasy of how doing it felt. His mouthed opened, a move that went against everything he knew about himself, the very definition of who he was. And he swept her mouth with his tongue not bothering to hide the unrestrained greed to taste her, all of her. He considered the blood that she'd drank, the pools of it red and gushing down her throat, and he winced even as he swallowed her moans.

He pinched her chin tighter, the nails of his fingers beginning to dent her skin, and he followed the line of her teeth and shuddered when the sharp point of a fang grazed him. The kind of shudder that had him increasing the pressure and forcing her head to bend at an awkward angle to accommodate. There was an undercurrent of aggression and where her nails caught his skin drew blood.

Shit. He had never been so recklessly assertive with desire. When had he ever thought to give attraction the tiniest of consideration? The answer was decidedly never. Never in his life had control been so easily lost and his willpower so deviously manipulated. What the fuck was he even doing with his free hand pushed under the tear in her dress, skirting skin—freezing, toned, teasingly soft—and dragging her closer, closer than it was possible to be with so many layers of clothes.

The back of his head was raked by claws, red lines trailing her fingers. He hauled her body flush with his and she hooked a leg around his waist and squeezed, all the power of her muscles flexed and released as she lifted her other foot off the ground and held herself secure around his waist.

This felt wrong in a thrilling, instigative way. It made him more reckless and more demanding, she was off the ground but he wasn't carrying her. All her strength was put into her thighs and she was still able to move and grind and writhe and arch her back, a vexing array of motion that shouldn't have been possible in their position. And fuck if he didn't want to slam her against something solid.

His navigation was off because when they did hit something it wasn't the plaster of a wall. The deep peal of a single low note reverberated against their wet gasps and breathy groans. The piano keys assumed the role of bench as Levi leaned so that she was sitting on the keys and a session of awkward notes echoed throughout the ballroom.

His fingers glided up the skin of her shin, over her knee, his wrist catching on the hem of her skirts and dragging them up.

More notes were hit when she shifted position, angling her head to take loud, swallowing pulls of his mouth while her hands twisted hard into his jacket. She was pulling him on top of her, into her, splaying her legs so that he could crawl between them and—

God, how far was he going to take this? They were enemies. They weren't even the same species. But when he considered ending it now, when he was wound so tightly and so frustratingly _aching_, he lacked the will to give a fuck.

"Petra." She said breathless and arching her back again. This time the front of her dress fell completely, barely holding on to the curve of her shoulders. "My name."

"I don't give a shit." He grunted, fingers trailing up her body until he reached her throat. Her skin was beautiful. Pale and smooth, and once more he nearly mistook her for human but for how cold it felt beneath his fingertips.

"I need a name too. Or am I just going to call out 'hunter?'" She eyed him with a playfulness that was—_damn her_—adorable.

He was against giving her his name. Not that it truly mattered, but for the principal of it. Her fingers curled tighter into the lapels of his jacket and she licked along his jaw to bite roughly on his ear.

"_Levi_."

Fuck. So much for his fucking pride. He was giving way too easily, allowing this woman—_creature _too much control.

The skirt of her dress had been nearly torn from the bodice, what remained of it was just scraps that somehow still clung to her frame. He was beyond caring about semantics of their respective races. He was beyond caring about his own obligations to humanity and the fight against its slaughter by creatures like the one moaning his name into the air. He had no plan. No direction.

They had no established rhythm or finesse. Grinding hard against each other because they couldn't even pull apart to undress. Instead they'd begun to tear through the layers enough for contact, any contact of skin on skin. Petra took the lead first with her own clothes, tearing until the sudden chill of the air made her suck in a breath through her teeth. While she tore open his belt he dropped his hand, barely coherent enough to consider the reality of what he was doing, let alone doing it properly. Without any ceremony or the curtsey of foreplay he dipped two fingers between her thighs.

Petra's head rolled backward, her hands faltering in their task.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

She was pushed further up the piano keys, practically sitting on his hand, and they had gotten so loud and so deliriously consumed in what they were doing they didn't heard the footsteps behind them.

The cry of alarm carried over the noise of them and the piano, jarring them from the moment. Levi pulled away from her when he realized that another vampire had snuck up behind him and had picked up one of his fallen swords in the process. Finally instinct to survive and fight won out over that of procreation.

He quickly wiped his fingers over the top of his pants and then grabbed the final stake still holstered on his belt, the front of which was torn open. His shirt was untucked and his waistcoat had been ripped open, none of the buttons remained. His hair was bunched in places where fingers had pulled, but he tried not to think about how disheveled he was. Or about what he had very nearly done. Or what he actually had. Or that he enjoyed it and was pissed at the interruption.

Petra wore little but rags. She pulled the edges of her corset closed, but it did nothing to hide all the breaks were her skin was visible.

"What…" The man held Levi's sword, narrowing his gaze on them. He spoke to Petra. "He just killed twenty-one—."

Petra raised her head, her tone was firm but her eyes were softer. "I know."

"Him?" He spat, pointing the sword at Levi. "_Him_? You've had nothing but eager mates to choose from and you choose a _hunter_?"

"What I do is not your business." She argued, but then she advanced on him directly, stealing the sword from his hand. "You know how this works, Auruo. I don't want you touching him."

"Petra—" He bared his teeth. "You were supposed to kill him not fuck—"

She slapped him so that his head spun on his neck. "Watch how you speak to me." She was smaller than him, but she held her stature with authority. Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I will not warn you again. We are friends, but never forget that I'm stronger."

Auruo's eyes fell over each of them, only lingering on Levi to glare in disapproval and disgust. It sparked of jealousy and Levi got the sense that Petra had rejected him in the past. The thought shouldn't have made him feel superior, and yet Levi couldn't help but meet Auruo's glare with a trace of smug triumph.

The lingering sensation hadn't quite left. The buzzing presence of Petra's hands and lips and skin. It was everywhere. He would never get himself clean of it—

Petra turned, copper hair fanning out around her head, and met Levi's eyes with apology in the light quirk of her lips.

—He suddenly didn't care.

Auruo didn't seem complacent to give up on the fighting. Even without Levi's sword he still had more natural defenses than Levi had with a single stake. It wasn't the ideal situation. Especially with a raging hard-on.

"This human is beneath you." Auruo said, but Petra had crossed to where Levi stood and hooked her arm through his. He decided to trust her, though he couldn't fathom why.

"Hopefully soon." She pulled Levi with her, toward one of the far exists of the ballroom. "I don't want to be disturbed by anyone for any reason until dawn."

Levi thought he should probably do something to assert himself in the situation. He wasn't the type to be dragged or led anywhere. Yet her grip was like a vice and when she turned one last time before leaving, she spun him so that he landed with their mouths together and began to brutally assault his mouth with hers.

No _fucking_ way was he going to her allow her an advantage like _that_. Levi sunk his teeth hard into her lip and when she flinched stole the stake holstered on his belt and spun it so that the sharpened tip rested on her jugular.

Petra licked her swollen lip. "Amend that last," lust darkened her eyes, "no interruptions until dawn tomorrow."

_Assuming I haven't killed you by then._

Levi held onto that idea for most of the night, into the morning, and finally passed out exhausted and twisted in the covers and limbs of a vampire in the midst of a vampire den,

and still he had not killed her.


End file.
